"I shouldn't even tell you this. If they find out I've been divulging secrets they'll kill me for sure."
"For game-day rituals?"
"If the other team's fans knew the secret formula, they could out-strategize our superstitions."
"You're serious?"
"I've got to go. I've said too much."

--

This morning as I put on my left argyle sock, ripped orange mighty-mouse boxers, lucky v-neck undershirt and was getting ready to don my Mike Richards #18 Flyers sweater I had a thought that maybe this was a bit ridiculous. Maybe the Flyers would win or lose on their own merit; not because of what I'm wearing or where I'm sitting while I watch the game.

Of course, the thought wasn't a spontaneous one -- it's also a part of the game-day routine. I'll never forget the morning I forgot to think about my ridiculousness. It was Feb 3, and the Flyers were playing the lowly Edmonton Oilers. They lost, and I have shouldered the blame for that game for the past 3 months.

After having my scheduled spontaneous thought I fill up my blue Caribbean Beach coffee cup, take David to school and make a right turn onto Umbria instead of the left. This adds about 10 minutes to my drive but it is worth it as the Flyers have a 20-3-2 record when I drive the long way. As I head up Umbria I feel sorry for the opposing team's fan whose superstitious routine will undoubtedly be unrewarded because of the very thought that I am having at that moment. (It's an insta-superstitial-killer, as I like to refer to it.)

With the playoffs coming up I can't reveal any more of my routine because I can't have some other fan outwit me.

The Flyers count on me and I don't want to disappoint.